Shay's Tale
by AbsolutelyNoSoliciting
Summary: yeah its like.... permanent hiatus yo....
1. one

Innocent Bystander 

I've heard them, those rebels, tell me over and over again that this world isn't real, that it's nothing more than a dream. But... I think that they are wrong. For there are many real things within it. The stories, the songs, the movies, anything worth calling fiction, they are said to not be real. But they are. They are real ideas that someone has thought up. They exist within our minds, just as our minds exist within this world. And those programs. They have to be real too. I've heard those rebels say how one sometimes spits blood in that other world when injured in this. So if the programs are not real, how could they cause something to be damaged? They may not be real humans, but they are real in their own way. And if the matrix is not real, how could these things that are exist within it? How could those rebels who claim to be real enter it? How could they look at it on their black and green screens? Nay, they do not understand their own words.

I've heard them, those rebels, tell me over and over again that this world is a lie, nothing but a false reality. But it is still a reality. And once you have learned the truth, does a lie not cease to be a lie? So this world is not what you though it to be, but is that other world any better? True, you are living free, but you are also living frightened. You are living in worry for you husbands and wives, your sons and daughters, who are striving to "free" others and give them a life just like yours. If you had stayed in this world, if you had stayed here by _choice, _would you also not be living a free life? Would you not be living a better life? A normal life, such as you had strived for in that other world? So your "real" body would be undergoing other things, but how would that affect your life in this world? It does not seem to have affected anyone, save those rebels, who insist it stop. But was not slavery a thing thought up by the humans, as were the machines? Indeed many claim that it was us humans who destroyed the world, and yet the machines have given us a new one.


	2. two

So this is why I stay here, to the confusion of those rebels. This is the way that I choose to live my life, to the confusion of all. I know that I am still endangered, for there are those programs who would not trust me, and those rebels who would think me traitorous and shameful. As I have heard that program the Merovingian say, action- reaction. Cause and effect. I made my choice, and there are those who resent and mistrust it. But this is the way I choose to live my life. This is the decision that I have come to understand more than any other. This is my choice.


	3. three

But who am I? Who is this one who has made such an odd choice? I suppose that one might call me Shay. I like that name very much- it is pleasant to the ear. Yes, you might call me Shay, if you choose.

But again, who am I? What kind of person am I that I would come to such an understanding of my choice? To some I am but a child. To others I am as old as time itself. I would say who I am depends on who you are. But from my point of view, I will tell you who and what I am.

In this world I would be counted as fifteen. I am male, of course, with grey eyes, and shaggy blonde hair. Of an average height am I, an average weight, and a basically average body, but a body that harbors a not-so-average mind. I adore books. Books of fantasy, of myth lore, of other worlds. It is a fiction that contains more truth than a biography. Walks I love. Walks high up in the mountains where solitude normally so rare is found in great bounty. And my third joy is weaponry. I love that beautiful and deadly power. It entrances me, and I cannot resist its feel. I suppose that it is in my benefit as well, for if I did not indulge in this then I would not be capable of living my endangered life. No romance do I have though, for that is my idea of folly. No weakness will I create for myself. No distraction or hindrance will I stand. This is who I am.


	4. four

Years ago, when I was running much more, I heard that program called Seraph say that you do not truly know a person until you fight them. I believe this. It is something I understand- I can see the wisdom in it. However, I think that if a person like you were to fight me, you would not learn more about me. I think that you would only learn what heaven looks like. Nay, I cannot give you more of myself like that, so I will give it in my own way. I will tell you the story and conflict of my life, the struggles I have faced, the losses I have had, and the strength and peace that I have found within myself. Perhaps if I do this, then you will also learn the state of my mind.


	5. five

**Disclaimer- I do not own the Matrix.**

**Chapter Five**

Even though my parents had been married for ten years by the time I was born, you might have thought they were newlyweds, the way they acted. That's how much they loved each other. I was an only child, so it was always just the three of us. They were both writers, and it was from them that I learned to love books. I am smiling wistfully now, remembering my first life. I remember playing in the park, going on bike rides, seeing a movie, and going to church. My parents took me to church every Sunday. I still remember the looks on their faces when singing a hymn. I think that it was called praise. However the thing I wish most not to remember is what I remember most clearly- the last day that we were together.


	6. six

**Disclaimer- I do not own the Matrix.**

**Chapter Six**

I was ten years old. For the past three weeks I had been at soccer camp. We were going to meet at the airport. I remember being anxious as I left the plane, afraid that they might not be there, that they had somehow forgotten. My fears left me quickly though, as I heard my name being called. I turned and ran to them, a huge grin on my face. They said that I had gotten darker. We started walking towards the luggage pickup. I ran ahead of them as I saw my bag. I grabbed it and turned back, but my parents were gone.  
  
How can I describe the next few moments? It is simple to say what i saw- two men in suits, almost identical. Two of those agents. But how do I describe what I felt? How do I describe the sheer terror that welled up in me? How do i describe the pain that came the next moment? How it feels to scream and have no sound come out? How my body was not my own anymore? How can one describe the near eternity in an empty blackness? I cannot tell you fully what happened. I wasn't even conscious most of the time. But it was those agents. My parents and I had become hosts for three of those agents.  
  
I do not know how long it was before I was free of that agent, nor how long it took for me to finally wake up, but when i did, i was no longer in the airport. My limbs were extremely sore, as if i had been in a fight. There was a car nearby- it had flipped over. I could not see who was in it. A voice called me, and i turned to it. That program called Seraph was standing there. He told me that it would be best to come with him. Shocked and confused, I didn't think about resisting. I asked him though, who had been in the car- who had died. He looked away and did not say anything for awhile, but then told me that it had been my parents.


	7. seven

Disclaimer- I do not own the Matrix.

**Chapter Seven**

I don't remember exactly what happened next. I know that I refused to look into the car, but after that there is nothing for a while. I'm sure I had blacked out again. The next thing I remember was waking up in a small room- part of an apartment. I was in a bed and my clothes had been changed. Suddenly though, as if a switch had been pulled in my brain, I was flooded with images. The airport. My parents. The two suited men. The blackness. The crashed car. The Asian man. My parents. My parents. My parents. My parents... They were all I could think of. My parents were dead. I cried.

I did not cry alone for long. A pair of arms came swooping down, holding me, cradling me, comforting me. A calming voice- shushing me. The voice did not say that it was all right, that everything would be fine, for it is still not all right, and it will never be fine. No, that voice does not lie. It might deceive, but it does not lie. I wept into the arms. I wept without shame, without heed of the fact that it was a stranger. I wept because my parents were gone and my first life had died with them.

_Are you going to tell him? No, not yet. He is still suffering from shock. What do you want me to do? Teach him- train him. He will have a hard life when he leaves. The best that we can do is make sure that he is ready._ I was falling asleep. I heard words that I could not at the time understand. I did not care what they were talking about though. All I wanted to do those first few days was sleep. Sleep away those horrible memories. _How long will he stay? Long enough._ But I had forgotten what a nightmare was like.


	8. eight

I've heard them, those rebels, brag about that construct of theirs. How they can speed up their learning process and become masters at anything they want. But the best meal comes cooked slowly. So, I wonder, have they truly learned what they say they have? Do they really understand it? Do they know the history behind every aspect of it? Do they find joy in progress? Do they grow close to their teacher, depending on guidance? I wonder if they enjoy what they have learned, or if they merely learn it for its use.

For two years and a half years I stayed with those programs called the Oracle and Seraph. It was from him that I learned my love of weaponry. It was from him that I learned how to fight. My fists. My feet. Swords from a variety of nations and eras. Longbows, short bows, great bows and crossbows. I gained skill in all of those areas. It was not then the greatest skill, but it was a skill still far above average.

When I was not training with him, I was in that kitchen with her, often struggling to make cookies. It is never hot in there, nor is it cold, but always a gentle kind of warm- the same feeling one gets from her cookies. We would talk. Talk of books she would give me to read. Talk of my past- never of the future. She would have me describe things, and I did, not knowing she already knew what I was telling her. She taught me how to use my mind.


	9. nine

My second life, like the first, died abruptly.

We were in her kitchen again. She asked me how my morning was. I had gone to the market with him. I told her that I had seen something odd. I told her that it felt like something I had seen before. There were two men in suits running down the street, each with a pistol in hand. No one noticed. A child sat on the sidewalk crying for his parents. No one noticed. No one except for Seraph. He took my hand and led me into a shop that we visited often. Quick words were spoken in a foreign language, and he ran out the door. The storekeeper led me back to the apartment, and I hadn't seen Seraph since.

She rubbed her forehead, but then looked up at me and smiled. She gave me a cookie, and we sat down at her table. She asked me if I knew why I had recognized that scene. Of course I knew. That child was lucky. His parents were most likely dead, like mine. When he woke up, he might not remember his dreams, only darkness. But it would be a darkness that everyone knows. Every night, when I go to sleep, I dream of a darkness that is real. Of course I knew why that scene had been familiar to me. I'd be insane if I forgot. But then again, I could go insane remembering.

She then proceeded to tell me what an agent was. She said that they were made to guard humans. They were able to take over anyone who lived in the Matrix. She told me about the Matrix. She told me about the rebels, and the One. She said that she and Seraph were programs like the agents, but-

I didn't hear the rest. I didn't care what she had to say. I looked at the cookie she had given to me. She- she who was related to those agents. Those agents who had taken the lives of my parents. And that Seraph. Most likely he had been involved in that fatal car crash. These past few years I had lived with them. My parents' killers.

Those were the thoughts that flashed through my head at that moment.

_My parents' killers._

I crushed the cookie in my hand and gave her a malevolent look. I ran out the door and down to the elevator, not looking back. She never called out to me. I stood in the elevator, waiting for the lurch at the bottom. When it opened I ran out of the apartment. Tears streaked my face.


	10. ten

Chapter 10

I kept running from the apartment. I wanted to get as far away from that pace as possible. I ran for miles- paying no attention to the blurs that swept past- and they in turn paying no attention to me.

At last I collapsed at the side of the road. I had left the city and was kneeling next to a graveyard. A chill trickled up my spine, like water going backwards. Overcoming the feeling, I walked through the gate.

There was an almost reverent stillness in that place- as if the dead had taken all sound with them.

I stared at the names around me, wandering through the many aisles. Suddenly, the headstones ended, though the mounds continued.

_This area of the grounds is reserved._

I looked behind me and saw an old man with a rake. The caretaker.

_Reserved.... for what? The people who have no relatives. No one to pay for their funeral, so they get a hole in the ground. I'm probably the only one who remembers how they died._

He came up next to me and pointed to a mound.

_That one there was an old man with cancer. Never bothered to go to a hospital. _

He moved to a larger mound.

_Those two made it into the news. DWI. Big accident on the other side of town. Killed three others. Teaches you to stay away from alcohol._

He gave a heavy sigh.

_Kid like you probably doesn't care about the dead though, huh? Excuse me._

I watched him walk away, and then turned to look at the large mound.

I care.

I turned from the grave of my parents and ran out of the yard.

Authors Note- sorry about the delay. Brain blew up. I recovered and had the chapter ready, but I didn't like it so I rewrote it. Hope u like it!

Protectress of Dalidon- I'll try to put more in the chapters from now on. darn school... training me not to write endless papers...

Quietly Making Noise- thank you for the correction. I should stop relying so much on spellcheck... ;;


End file.
